


100. A weekend sail

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [100]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-03
Updated: 2008-11-03
Packaged: 2018-01-15 20:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1317940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	100. A weekend sail

_**Ryan Kwanten takes Sam Worthington for a weekend sail**_  
[current; the boys take a mini-break in Tenerife]

"Okay, almost there. Almost," Ryan says, carefully watching Sam's steps to make sure he doesn't trip as Ryan leads him blindfolded down the pier. "And... ready?" he asks, pointing Sam in the right direction and pulling off his blindfold. "The Ipharra," Ryan says, gesturing towards a gorgeous double-sailed catamaran. "She's ours for the weekend."

Momentarily blinded, Sam blinks against the still-strong sunlight before his vision clears and his jaw drops. Literally. "Holy fuck," he murmurs. "She's beautiful." He grins at Ryan. "How the hell are we going to sail her?"

"We'll have some help," Ryan assures his lover, thrilled with Sam's reaction. "I hired a Citadel crew to take us out. They'll teach us whatever we want to learn. Or we can relax the whole time. Or go water-skiing, laser vago, kayaking..." he burbles over in his excitement, barely aborting a reach for Sam's hand as he steps onto the yacht's deck.

"What's laser vago?" Sam asks, busy looking around, the catamaran way beyond anything he'd imagined for this weekend. "This is brilliant," he says, taking it all in, thrilled that Ryan thought to hire a Citadel crew. The last thing he wants to do is worry about touching Ryan.

"It's, um, trapezing. Pretty much." Ryan waves an uncertain hand in the air. "I mean, I've never done it, but I've been reading up on it. You hold onto the trapeze line and plant your feet on the hull of the boat, and then just hang there over the water. In laser vago, they have skiffs specifically built for this, to be completely manned by one person." He grins at his lover. There's no question, with Ryan: he learned about some new insane way to push his body to its limits, and now he wants to try it.

Sam grins back. "How I'd end up with such an adrenalin junkie as my boyfriend?" he teases, still resisting that urge to kiss Ryan since they're within full view of the shore.

"Who else would let you try every mad thing with his body? You know I love you for your creativity," Ryan says with a laugh. He leads the way from the deck down a circular staircase and into a huge open lounge stretching nearly the length of the boat. "I thought the kitchen would be tiny, but look -- it's totally open," Ryan says excitedly. "I might actually cook. And there's a full entertainment system over there," he points to the far wall, "if we want to watch a movie or something."

Ryan's like a kid in a candy shop and Sam can't blame him. "It's fantastic, all of it," he says. "What about the cabins?"

"This way," Ryan answers, leading the way through the lounge and down the hall. "The master bedroom is all the way back here. We've got a gorgeous view overlooking the starboard side." And a full king-size bed which dominates the cabin. "Plenty of head room," Ryan says with a smile, leading Sam into the cabin.

" _Nice,_ " Sam says, opening various doors. "And our own ensuite." He grins at Ryan. "Where the hell did you find this?"

Ryan shrugs. "Google," he says simply, and grins. "Okay, so I did a bit more research than that. Had to negotiate with the yacht charter to get them to let us use our own crew." But Ryan had been determined -- what's the point of spending two days on a luxury yacht with Sam if they can't even _touch_? "They'll have some of the other cabins, and then there will be a few empty cabins. I'm thinking, if we ever want to throw a party and invite our families, this is the way we should do it. Treat them to a few days on the Mediterranean Sea."

Sam loves the idea. "Can you imagine our parents?" He's still looking around, shaking his head. Reaches out for Ryan and pulls him in close. "This is amazing, but you, you're what's really brilliant," he says, kissing him softly.

Ryan grins into the kiss and wraps his arms around his lover. Sam delights him with surprises all the time; he's excited to be able to give something back.

"Are the crew already on? Do we need to meet them?" Sam asks after another long minute spent drowning in Ryan's mouth.

"Hmm?" It takes Ryan a few seconds to catch up. "Oh, right. Sure." He takes Sam's hand in his and leads him back up the stairs. A group of four men are clustered in the wheelhouse, and Ryan enters with a smile. "Captain Riseo, this is Sam Worthington. First mate Andersen, Doug, and Emile." He gestures towards each man as he makes the introductions.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Sam says, shaking each man's hand in turn. "Are we setting off right away, or...?"

Captain Riseo nods. "As soon as you give the word," he answers. "We'll be sailing past Buenavista del Norte, west around Isla de la Gomera, and we'll return Sunday evening, probably around 1800."

"Sounds great to me," Sam says, smiling. "And anytime you're ready would be good." Because as much as he wants to watch them leave shore, he also wants to fuck Ryan through the nearest flat surface as soon as possible.

"Excellent. Cast off," the captain says, turning to give orders to his crew.

"We'll get out of your way," Ryan murmurs, descending the stairs to the deck. He puts his hands in his pockets and steps aside, squinting up as the crewmembers unfurl the sails.

"They make it look so easy," Sam says, shielding his eyes with his hand.

"Yeah." Ryan's grin is ear-to-ear as they push off from the dock, the wind filling the sails. "This is going to be so amazing when we get out into open water. Really pick up speed."

Sam mirrors Ryan's grin as they pull away, Los Gigantes slowly receding. "This is what I call a break," he says softly. "Not even seeing the place for a few days."

"Lost to the world... Did you warn your agent he won't be able to get at you?" Ryan loves this already. A complete holiday for his lover. He checks over his shoulder to see how far they are from the dock, then brushes his fingers against Sam's.

Sam nods, brushing back. "Told him my cellphone'd be off all weekend. I wasn't going to chance telling him where we were going. He'd send out the coast guard or something."

"I think we've just officially disappeared," Ryan says, feeling a rush of giddiness. The island is fast leaving sight. "Want a drink? Are you ready for dinner?"

"I wouldn't mind a beer but dinner can wait," Sam says, especially when he's itching to get his hands on Ryan. "I wouldn't mind trying out those lounger things downstairs."

"Cool." Ryan leads the way back down the circular staircase. He visited the yacht this morning, and as a result the galley is well-stocked with both food and beverages. Bending over to open the under-counter fridge, he grabs them a beer each. "These lounger things are huge," he says, handing Sam his drink. "I think they could sleep twelve all by themselves."

"Probably," Sam agrees, cracking open his beer and taking a sip. His smile broadens into a grin and he nods at the closest one. "Lie down. On your back."

Raising an eyebrow, Ryan sets down his bottle. He lies back on the lounger, letting his flip-flops slip to the floor. His heart is racing already.

Sam kicks off his sandals and takes another sip of beer before joining his lover. He stretches out alongside him, one hand pushing Ryan's t-shirt up and sliding over his stomach, warm skin and tight muscle beneath his palm.

Ryan fists his hands at his sides, forcing himself to be patient and lie still. But the fine muscles beneath Sam's hand are already starting to leap with anticipation.

"You are so sexy," Sam murmurs, smiling, his eyes sparkling as he leans in and licks around Ryan's navel.

Ryan's breath shudders out on a moan. He lifts his hand and lays it lightly on Sam's head, stroking through his hair. "Sir," he whispers, his cock beginning to rear up inside his shorts.

Smiling against that same warm skin, Sam drags his teeth over its unblemished perfection. Captures a fold between his teeth and bites, the force just short of leaving a mark.

His body stiffening, Ryan whimpers. He slides his hand down over Sam's shoulder, scratching lightly through his t-shirt. "You haven't marked me in a long time," he whispers. Then he instantly worries it might sound like a criticism.

Sam lifts his head, hand sliding down to cup and stroke Ryan through his shorts. "I will. When we get home," he promises. Both of them spend way too much of their time here half-clothed for Ryan to be walking around with any serious marks.

"Yes, Sir," Ryan nods. He's already distracted by that hand, and arches up to push into Sam's touch.

"Until then..." Sam murmurs, giving Ryan another few strokes before he pushes open his shorts. "I'll have to keep it where no one else can see it," his mouth on that exposed patch of skin, sucking roughly, willing, no demanding, the blood rise to the surface.

His body jerks, and Ryan cries out, an instant before he shoves his fist in his mouth and bites down. _Fuck_. Blood throbs hard in his cock and he fights to stay still. But Sam's mouth is so _close_.

Feeling Ryan struggle under him, Sam sucks even harder, licking over the bruise before he widens its scope, mouth closing over the next patch of skin and the next.

Moaning, Ryan gives himself up to sensation. He's going to have a mess of bruises, fuck yes. His erection brushes against Sam's cheek and he jerks like he's been shocked, clawing at the edge of his self-control.

Sam flicks his tongue over the bruises, scrapes his teeth over them, mouths them again and again until he's sure they'll show for days. And then he turns his attention to Ryan's cock, brushing his lips over the head, the barest ghosting of a touch, his breath hot on the even hotter flesh.

Ryan cries out. He digs his fingers into the upholstered lounger, trying to ground himself. Lifting his head, he looks breathlessly down at his lover. "Please," he whispers, and licks dry lips. "Please, anything you want." The suspense might just kill him.

Sam smiles. "Get your shorts off," he orders.

In a flash Ryan is moving, struggling to unzip his fly with suddenly-clumsy fingers. He shoves at his shorts, shimmying out of them in record time, then lies back, breathless.

Now Sam has a better view of the marks he's left on Ryan and it only makes him want to leave more. He takes Ryan's cock in hand, stroking it slowly, gently, thumb rubbing over the head.

Fuck what a fucking tease. Ryan whimpers, trying not to squirm. It's no good; he squirms anyway, his chest hitching.

"I'm being horrible, aren't I?" Sam says, continuing to stroke just as gently, just as leisurely as before, his eyes locked on Ryan's face, measuring his every emotion.

Biting his lip, Ryan hesitantly nods. "Please," he gasps softly, but he's not even sure what he wants most -- for Sam to pleasure him... or to hurt him. "Please."

"You said anything," Sam reminds him, stroking once, twice and again before letting go and slapping Ryan's cock with the flat of his hand.

"Fuck!" Ryan arches violently against the lounger, unprepared for the sudden shock of pain after the gentle caresses.

Sam's cock swells instantly, harder than hard, and he groans, hissing in a soft breath. "Now you do it," he says. "Slap your cock."

Lifting his head, Ryan stares at his lover in shock... and maybe a bit of horror. Tentatively he reaches down and brushes his fingertips over his prick, shivering a little. He sucks in a breath, gathering his courage. Then he slaps his cock hard with the palm of his own hand.

Another groan spills from Sam's lips and he pushes up to his knees. "Keep going," he orders, tugging his t-shirt over his head. "And don't stop until I tell you to."

Not for the first time, Ryan finds himself abstractly wondering if he is _absolutely fucking insane_. Surely it's not healthy to give another man this much power over his body, over his mind, to the extent that Sam can even talk him into torturing himself... He does it anyway, of course. Braces his cock against the flat of his left hand and then smacks himself with his right. And again. _Again_ , and he can feel the tears gathering at the backs of his eyes.

"Good boy," Sam says, working his jeans down over his hips and sitting back so he can kick them free of his feet. "Move up some," he orders, motioning for Ryan to move up the lounger so he can lie between his legs, thumb pressed to his already-slicked hole. "That's it. Just like that. I want to see you cry."

Ryan shouts, immediately pushing against Sam's thumb in a desperate attempt to work him deeper. He smacks his cock again, and again, until he feels raw with the fire working its way through his body. "Please, Sir!" he cries out, his head swimming. A tear spills onto his cheek and he hardly notices. "Please!"

"Not yet," Sam says. "You can hold on a little longer for me," he says simply, pushing two fingers deep into Ryan's hole and twisting them hard even as he fastens his teeth on Ryan's inner thigh, biting and sucking hard at that softest and most sensitive of flesh.

Ryan's shout this time is just unintelligible noise. He swiftly strokes his cock a few times, fisting it tight, before switching hands. Switching sides as he slaps himself raw, crying freely now.

Sam places one mark after another, moving between thighs, biting hard and then harder still. Sucking until the blood pinpricks the surface with stark red dots, his fingers moving inside Ryan, a third added, curling and twisting and rubbing over his prostate, every cry, every slap making Sam ache, leak, his cock jerk again and again.

Oh, god. Oh, _god_. Ryan is losing his fucking mind. He can't even figure out anymore what hurts and what feels good -- can't separate pain and pleasure. He's just a ragged mass of need, fucking his body onto Sam's fingers, lighting up as his lover brutally marks him again and again. Hurting himself to the point where he's sobbing.

Done marking his boy, Sam lifts his head, watching Ryan, watching those tears stream down his cheeks, that hand lift and drop again and again, punishing his own cock. " _Now_ you can come for me," he tells him, twisting his fingers in even harder.

Ryan screams. He lets go of his dick and claws at the lounger, pleasure so intense it fucking hurts rushing through his body. Again and again shudders rock him, leaving him a quivering muddle of raw nerve endings. Crying.

"Good boy," Sam praises, but he doesn't let up. He fucks Ryan right through his aftershocks and then pulls his fingers out, swatting Ryan on the side of the leg. "Turn over. Knees up under you."

It's only force of habit that makes Ryan respond. He's so conditioned to following orders, in that voice, that he rolls over and pushes to his knees without even consciously processing the command. Still shaking, now with sudden cold.

Sam doesn't waste a second. Hand on the back of Ryan's neck, holding him in place, he pushes into his hole, cock sinking deep, and starts fucking his lover, his boy, at a brutal pace.

Crying out wordlessly, Ryan shoves back. As best he can, anyway, when he's pinned the way he is. He's completely overwhelmed, his body acting out of sheer instinct. Mind still fogged.

"That's it. Good boy," Sam murmurs, driving into Ryan's open hole again and again, his rhythm gaining both strength and speed as he races towards his release, eyes locked on the horizon.

Ryan's chest hitches, his breath sobbing. Sam is the only thing holding him up. He shakes beneath the onslaught, face pressed to the cushion.

"Oh, fuck," Sam moans just before it hits, his thrusts sharpening, jackhammering, his cock starting to pulse, hot heavy spurts emptied into Ryan's ass.

Exhausted, Ryan just kneels there beneath his lover. He knows he did well - from some dim corner of his mind there's a feeling of peace - and he starts to drift, shivering despite the burning in his flesh.

"That was brilliant," Sam murmurs, pulling out and collapsing beside Ryan, his lover pulled into his arms. "I'm so proud of you."

With a whimper Ryan snuggles in, blindly seeking comfort. Security. He wraps himself around Sam, long arms and legs drawing his lover in tight. His throat feels hoarse, but he doesn't have the energy for speech anyway.

"It's okay," Sam whispers, kissing the top of Ryan's head. Completely used to this by now. "I've got you," he says, reaching behind him for a huge beach towel which he shakes out and drapes over both of them single-handedly. "Go ahead and sleep for a bit. We've got the whole weekend."  



End file.
